


An Embarrassment of Sherlocks

by AxeMeAboutAxinomancy



Series: For Mad Science, John [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Clones, Exhibitionism, Flirting, Humor, M/M, Mad Science, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 21:43:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AxeMeAboutAxinomancy/pseuds/AxeMeAboutAxinomancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were too many Sherlocks in the flat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Embarrassment of Sherlocks

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [[翻译] 琳琅满目夏洛克](https://archiveofourown.org/works/904995) by [fisafisa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fisafisa/pseuds/fisafisa)



> Direct result of a conversation with MirithGriffin about what the proper collective noun for multiple Sherlocks should be.

There were too many Sherlocks in the flat. John could tell.

Oh, they tried to be coy about it, at first. They'd only show up one at a time. At first. But it did not take a _genius_ to hear footsteps pacing upstairs when the feet in question were currently slung across the sofa, or to discern the sound of the violin when the violinist was in the shower.

John was at the point where he refused to dignify it with his notice, frankly. Which was probably why Sherlock(s) stopped bothering to try to hide it.

The problem with mad science, basically, was that by the time you realised it was more mad than science, it was too late to do much else but embrace it.

Of course if he tried embracing all the Sherlocks he would have dropped dead from exhaustion.

And when he thought that, he didn't even know how many there would end up being before critical mass was reached.

"It's simple _division_ , John," was all he got when he finally asked how it was done. "Do the _math_ , John."

John didn't feel like doing the math. He felt like doing a crossword, but try finding a pen in the flat with one Sherlock in it, let alone - however many there were now. And wasn't that _multiplication?_

Then came the day when there were more Sherlocks than there were clothes to cover them. Or sheets. Or towels. It was summer, so they didn't care about nudity.

John cared. John _cared_ about nudity.

They wouldn't even consider wearing John's clothes. And not even on the completely valid complaint that they wouldn't fit. Or that it was far too hot out for woolen jumpers. No, they had become a scathing multi-voiced thesaurus of synonyms for 'horrible'. John withstood it.

"You could at least wear pants."

"Oh, pants. _Whose_ pants. _Your_ pants?"

It took three of them to say that. They never let each other finish a thought and they fought constantly.

"You can talk to me one at a time, thanks," John said severely, avoiding the question. "I don't like you Stooging at me."

"Bit more Marx Brothers, surely, John," said Mycroft from the sofa. John hadn't even known he was here.

"That's too complimentary. Got a pen I could borrow, Mycroft?"

"Alas, no."

"And may I ask how long you've been here?"

"Entirely long enough to see you notice #51 there bending over."

"Well, great." Sherlock number fifty-one, if that designation was really correct and Mycroft wasn't just making things up to show off, had been rummaging for something over to one side of the fireplace. Whether he found it, whatever it was, John didn't know. It had been very distracting. If he had known Mycroft was here watching, he'd have left the room.

The designation must have been correct, actually, or all of the Sherlocks currently in the sitting room would have joyfully piped up to tell Mycroft he was wrong. They were strangely quiet this morning, though.

"And you're here because...?"

"I asked him," said a clothed Sherlock, the one in the purple shirt. He had to be #1, then; it was his favourite shirt.

John grunted.

"But I must be going," Mycroft said smoothly, standing up, and immediately the three Sherlocks on the sofa shifted to take up the space he left. One of them handed him his umbrella; he nodded affably.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it," he said to Sherlock #1, Purple Shirt Sherlock.

"Of course you wouldn't," said #1.

"You're boring," said several of the others, with varying degrees of emphasis.

"Just stay indoors, please," said Mycroft, almost affectionately, and with a nod to John he left.

"Here," said a Sherlock, handing him a pen. It was shiny, clearly expensive, obviously Mycroft's. "I took it off him when he stood up."

"Ta. Hey, he said he didn't have one."

"He said he didn't have one to _lend_ you."

It wrote beautifully, even on newsprint. It adjusted to the shape and size of John's hand for perfect balance as he filled in B A S T A R D.

It wasn't the answer to the clue, but he needed seven letters and John felt like writing those ones.

'Sherlock' was eight letters. Eight, tipping over towards infinity.

Too many Sherlocks in the flat.

***

John fell asleep in his chair. When he woke up, the Sherlocks on the sofa were kissing each other. Three of them. The one in the middle was wearing the purple shirt. One of the others was naked; the one nearest John was as half dressed as he'd ever seen any Sherlock, pyjama pants down awfully low on his hips and no shirt under the second best dressing gown.

John willingly assumed he was dreaming, and watched for a while.

In context, on the sofa, they were One Two and Three, but Two was the Sherlock whom he thought of as #1, and Three might have been #51 or any of the others that came along after the depletion of the original's wardrobe.

Despite being in the middle, Two did not get the lion's share of attention. One did, and even John could see why: the partially dressed one was like a lollipop gate in front of a swimming pool. A decidedly attractive nuisance. Three climbed across Two to get to him.

Three purred, "John needs a seven letter word for sex."

Two: "What a shame. 'Sodomy' is only six letters."

One: "There's always 'buggery'."

Three: "'Bonking'?"

One: "'Sodding'."

John said, "I'm just so glad all the finest minds are working on the problem."

His voice sounded just as he wanted it to. Dryly unimpressed. But he had put down the pen and the crossword and was gripping the arm rests of the chair rather tightly, which entirely spoiled the nonchalant effect.

There were, of course, rather a lot of other Sherlocks observing this scene. And observing John. And each and every one of them was full of mischief and brilliant surprises and was so godawful beautiful that it was like being hit by a car.

"There's really only one of me, you know," said the one in the purple shirt. "I mean, they are really here, but they aren't _real_ here, if you see what I mean."

"Clear as stout," said John.

"So it's perfectly reasonable to experiment on one of them. If you want. Or some of them. I won't mind."

"I'd prefer to experiment on you," John said, it just came out of his mouth like that, and he turned red, but he was still gripping the chair quite hard.

His reward was a glimpse of a rare sort of smile.

"You've always had that option," said Sherlock. "But you see what trying to ignore it gets you."

"We're lonely," said one of the others. They were getting a bit intertwined and it was difficult to tell which one had spoken.

"You don't _look_ lonely," John muttered. He meant the intertwined pair, but it was Sherlock #1 who answered again.

"Not as much as I used to. Before you."

A long moment passed. John's hands relaxed on the chair arms. He nodded once, and stood up.

"I'm going to have a shower. You sort this lot out, and meet me upstairs."

"All of them?"

Tempting. But. One was enough. Any more than that was an embarrassment of riches.

"Yes _all_ of them."

"Fine."

And there was that smile again, glimpsed obliquely as John started to turn away towards the bathroom. It sent a familiar thrill through him, intertwined with this new one, and summoned an answering smile to his lips.

Could be dangerous.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] An Embarrassment of Sherlocks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1485562) by [AxeMeAboutAxinomancy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AxeMeAboutAxinomancy/pseuds/AxeMeAboutAxinomancy)




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